tempus vitae
by finchily
Summary: In which Captain Steve Rogers receives an education, makes new friends, does not go on a date, and attempts to keep a secret. Gen.
1. Chapter 1

"Captain Rogers?" Steve looked up from his close study of the tabletop.

"Sir?" Director Fury looked as though he was trying not to smile.

"I said, good job." Steve blinked.

"Thank you, sir."

"Now go and get that arm checked out." Fury did smile this time. "And then you can tell the others to clear off my helicarrier."

"Sir?" Now Steve really was confused. "Did we do something wrong?"

"No, Captain, you did something right. Quite a lot right, actually. In fact, I think you deserve a vacation. Take a couple weeks off, maybe a month. Get your life sorted out. You're twenty-three, Rogers. Go do whatever twenty-three-year-olds do."

Steve refrained from pointing out that he had been born over ninety years ago. That wasn't really the point. He stood, decided not to salute (his arm really did hurt an awful lot), and headed for the door.

* * *

Tony was, of course, completely overjoyed to hear the word _vacation_.

"I'm thinking… movie night," he declared, tugging at the sleeve of his T-shirt. The Iron Man suit had folded itself up in a corner, and Tony was looking his usual ridiculous self, sporting a grin about a foot wide.  
"Jarvis, call up the pizza place and tell them to deliver three extra- large combos to Stark Tower. No, make that four. And with extra olives. Pepper loves olives."

"Indeed, sir. When would you like them to arrive?"

"How long will it take us to get home from here?"

"Anywhere from ten to twenty minutes, sir, depending on traffic."

"Then tell them to bring it in half an hour."

"All right, sir." Jarvis fell silent and Tony turned to Steve.

"Do you think four pizzas will be enough? You and Thor eat like a swarm of locusts."

Steve didn't answer. He was wrestling with the cuff of his shirt where it had caught on the brace on his wrist – it turned out there was a fracture, but it was relatively minor and with his serum-enhanced metabolism it should heal within the next one to two weeks. As the doctor had said, putting a cast on for that little time was more trouble than it was worth.

"Cap?" He looked up. Tony sighed. "I said, do you think four pizzas will be enough?"

"Probably."

"Good. I don't want our first experience on vacation to be running out of food."

"If we do, we can always eat Pepper's olives." Tony stared at him.

"Are you crazy? She'd skin us! I -"

"That was a joke."

"Oh."

* * *

Several hours, four pizzas, and one viewing of _Rebecca_ later, Steve was sitting on the floor in front of the couch with his sketchbook, doodling awkwardly with his left hand (dammit, his wrist still hurt) and listening to Tony ramble on about how Maxim deWinter was the most ridiculous name ever conceived of by mankind. Pepper, who had chosen the movie, shut him up with an elbow to the ribs.

"Peps…" She smirked.

"Were you having a moment, Tony?"

"Twelve per -" Their inexplicable conversation was cut off by a sudden meeting of lips. And tongues. And Steve wasn't sure what else, because he politely looked away after that and tried not to think about how much the second Mrs. de Winter's hair looked like Peggy's.

It wasn't even that they looked alike, and they certainly didn't act alike, but still.

"Steve."

"Huh? What is it, Clint?" The archer leaned over and deposited a pamphlet on top of Steve's sketchbook.

"Take a look at that."

_Aspen Junior College, New York, New York_, the cover read. Steve opened it. Clint had taken a marker to the course list. Three classes were circled: _Biology 101_, _Modern History_, and _Introduction to Studio Art_.

"What's this about?" Steve glanced up at his teammate on the couch, only to find the rest of the Avengers staring at him expectantly. "Are _all_ of you guys in on… whatever this is?"

"'_This'_ is college, Steve." Bruce's voice was quiet and unexpected above his left shoulder. "It'll be good for you." Steve looked at the pamphlet again. He couldn't deny that he was intrigued by the art class, at least.

"But what about the Avengers? What about the next time Fury needs us? I know he gave us a vacation, but I doubt he meant a whole year." Tony snorted.

"Sorry to break it to you, Capsicle, but the rest of us do have lives, you know." He grinned. "I mean, I do occasionally have to go to business meetings, and even Thor has that astrophysicist in New Mexico."

"Jane is wonderful," Thor put in helpfully. "Friend Steve, you also should do things besides being the Captain of America."

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Tony leaned back and rested his feet on the coffee table, earning him a glare from Pepper. He put his feet back on the floor. "Anyway, Cap, you should give it a shot. Besides, I can't see Fury complaining about you learning a little more about the modern world. It should make you more useful undercover, at least."

"You might even have fun," added Clint.

"Well, when you put it that way…" Steve glanced back at the pamphlet. _Introduction to Studio Art. A basic course in drawing, painting, and sculpting. _"Okay."

"Great! Jarvis, please complete the online registration process."

"Using the real ID or the fake, sir?"

"Hey, wait a minute -" Tony steamrollered over Steve's interruption.

"The fake, of course. He isn't ninety."

"Done, sir."

"Cool." Tony turned to Steve, who had an uncomfortable feeling that his mouth might be hanging open. He shut it.

"Classes start in two weeks."

"Tony, I… thank you…"

"You're welcome. Now how about we watch a real man's movie?" Pepper and Natasha both went for him at that, each from a different side. "No, I didn't mean it, I swear… ow, okay, okay, you pick the next one, okay, Nat? Can you let go now?"

"What do you think, Pepper? Does he get his hands back after that comment?" Pepper grinned.

"I'd much prefer it if he did, thank you very much." Natasha released Tony abruptly, and he fell back against Pepper. The Black Widow smirked.

"Let's see, what shall we watch… I know! How about _Twilight_?" Clint, Tony, and Bruce all turned stare at her, their faces contorted in horror. Even Thor looked surprised.

"I have not seen this movie, but my dear Jane has described it as too horrible for words. Why do you then suggest we view it?" Natasha smirked.

"That's the point. Tony needs to pay, and anyway, Cap needs a little more cultural education." Steve was puzzled.

"On a bad movie?"

"_Twilight_ is a cultural icon."

"What's it about?"

"A teenage girl falls in love with a sexy vampire." Pepper's voice carried the same matter-of-fact tone she used in business meetings. Steve spluttered.

"A _what_ vampire?"

"Jarvis, just play the movie."

"At once, Ms. Potts."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I want to thank Qweb, rthestewart, and The Clementine for reviewing this story. I hope you like it!**

**Also, I am going into my sophomore year of _high school_ right now. I know next to nothing about community college. Apologies in advance for any inaccuracies.**

* * *

Steve wasn't sure what he expected of his first day of community college, but it definitely wasn't this.

The classroom contained rows of battered tables and rickety plastic chairs, and it was full to the brim with college students, dressed in a bizarre variety of clothes and all chattering excitedly. Steve stood in the doorway, staring, until someone barreled into him from behind.

"Sorry, sorry!" Steve turned to see a rather heavyset brown-haired man who looked about twenty.

"No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have been blocking the door." Steve stepped inside the classroom and watched as the other man struggled with a – laptop? Yes, that was what it was called – and a bundle of electrical cords.

"Do you need any help with that?"

"Huh? Uh, no… do you see an outlet anywhere? Oh, there it is." The shorter man dumped his belongings onto a table beside a window, then offered his hand to Steve.

"I'm Mike. Mike Ronaldson." Steve shook his hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ronaldson. I'm Steve Rogers." Mike laughed.

"Mr. Ronaldson… gosh, I'm not a professor, you know! Just Mike is great!"

"All right." Mike busied himself for a moment plugging in cords and booting up his laptop.

"Say, you wanna sit here?"

"Sure." Steve pulled out a notebook and pen only to find Mike frowning at him.

"Pretty low-tech. Don't you have a computer?"

"No."

"Really? But -" A potentially awkward conversation was precluded by the arrival of the teacher.

A petite, middle-aged woman in blue jeans walked in and wrote her name on the – chalkboard? No, _white_board.

"Hello, class. I am Ms. Brady and this is Modern History. If you did not sign up for Modern History, you may leave now. No one? Good. Let's get to work." She grabbed a stack of papers and began handing them out.

"This is the syllabus. It dictates course expectations and recommended resources – there isn't any strictly required reading, but I do recommend Erickson's _History of the Second World War_. You can find it in most libraries, and I know you can buy an online version for those of you who are more tech-savvy." She smiled. "Now, unless there are any questions, I'd really like to get started with some history."

"This class is mostly going to cover the era following World War II, but the first week or so will be spent setting the stage, since many of you haven't covered this material in a while." She grabbed a pen and began drawing on the whiteboard. "By the way, you should all be taking notes. Now, can anyone tell me what happened on September 1, 1939?"

The classroom was suddenly filled with the sound of clacking keys, but no hands went up.

"Anyone?" Steve cautiously put his hand in the air. Ms. Brady wheeled around and pointed with her marker.

"You there, by the window! Don't be shy! What's your name?"

"Steve Rogers, ma'am."

"All right, Steve, tell us what happened on September 1."

"The Germans invaded Poland, ma'am."

"Correct!" The typing began afresh. Steve scribbled in his notebook: _Sept. 1, '39: G. to P._ Ms. Brady continued.

"Two days later, Britain and France declared war on Germany. At the same time, the Japanese…"

* * *

Two hours later, Steve walked out of the room with his head full of memories.

"Hey, wait up!" Mike panted as he jogged down the hallway. His arms were full of power cords which he was rapidly stuffing into a bag. "Wow, you walk fast. Anyway, do you wanna go to Taco Bell?"

"What?"

"I'm serious, man, are you up for a burrito? 'Cause I'm starving! I mean, unless you have plans or something."

"Huh? No, that sounds grand." Mike squinted at him, a little puzzled by his word choice, but shrugged it off.

"Great! I mean, I just asked 'cause I guess I thought you looked a little, well, lonely. Did all your friends go somewhere else for college? That happened to me, too. My best friend went all the way to Arizona! I'm happy for him, or course, but it's kinda weird not having them all around." Mike talked a mile a minute, but Steve didn't mind.

"So where're you from?"

"Brooklyn."

"What high school? What year? I know a couple guys from a school over there."

"Um… I was homeschooled."

"Oh. So you're straight out of isolation, then? Still living at home?" Steve grinned.

"I'm an Army man, Mike. _Captain_ Rogers."

"The hell? How old are you?" Steve chuckled and answered semi-honestly.

"Twenty-three."

"I'm only nineteen!"

* * *

Taco Bell was loud, colorful, and packed full of college students. Steve followed Mike to the end of the long line and stared at the menu posted above the counter. _Soft Taco. Crispy Potato Soft Taco. Crunchy Taco. Double Decker Taco. Bean Burrito. Chicken Burrito. Beefy 5-Layer Burrito. _

"So, what are you getting?"

_Cheesy Nachos. Nachos Supreme. Volcano Nachos._

"I'm not sure yet. How about you?"

"I usually go for the chicken burrito. Keep it simple, you know?"

_Fresco Burrito Supreme: Chicken or Steak. Cantina Burrito: Veggie, Chicken, or Steak._

Steve nodded.

"Simple. Yeah." When it was his turn at the counter he asked politely for a bean burrito. It cost a dollar, and despite what S.H.I.E.L.D. had told him about inflation, some fundamental part of him still insisted that that was _far too much_ to pay for a _burrito_, of all things. He'd never had one before, but it couldn't possibly be weirder than shawarma.

* * *

The burrito, when it came, was tiny and limp. It was surprisingly tasty, but definitely not enough for a decent lunch.

"So, what classes are you taking?" Steve swallowed the last of his burrito before answering Mike.

"I have art this evening at five, and then, um, Biology 101 tomorrow."

"What, you didn't take high school bio?" Steve shrugged.

"What are you taking, then?"

"Um… mostly computer stuff. Programming. Plus all your basics – English, science, you know." Mike paused. "Hey, why aren't you taking those? I thought they were mandatory."

"I'm not going for a degree, at least not right now – my day job might get in the way of that."

"Day job? Is it military?"

"Yes, and classified." Mike grinned.

"Worth a shot." They left the restaurant in companionable silence – until Mike had a thought.

"What's your number?"

"What, for my telephone?" Mike sighed.

"Of course for your phone. What did you think I meant?" He whipped out his cell phone, a sleek rectangle Steve thought Tony would have approved of. "Here, tell me and I'll put it in contacts." Steve obediently rattled off digits for the device he rarely used.

"What's yours?" There was an awkward pause during which Mike seemed to be waiting for Steve to do something. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Aren't you going to put it in contacts?"

"I don't have my phone with me right now." That was true, but even when he had it he had only the vaguest idea of what _contacts_ was. "I'll remember." Mike looked dubious but recited his number, then had Steve say it back to him.

"So, are you going home before you have art this evening?" Steve nodded.

"Yeah, how about you?"

"I haven't got class tonight so I'll just work on my Python."

"Your… python? You keep snakes?"

"Programming language," Mike said as though it explained everything. It didn't, and Steve added it to his mental list of Things to Ask Tony About.

It was a very long list.

"Anyway, see you around."

Mike waved goodbye, heading for his car where it was parked in front of the history building, and Steve set out on the walk back to the Tower. That had been… interesting. He was definitely looking forward to art class in a few hours.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I am so sorry this story has not been updated in so long! This chapter's extra long to (hopefully) make up for it.  
**

* * *

**Two Weeks Later**

"Wait, seriously? You thought he meant real _snakes_?" Tony looked at Steve incredulously before turning back to his tablet screen. Steve shifted his weight awkwardly.

"I just – I don't even know what a programming language is!"

"It's a language you use to program a computer."

"To what?" That got Tony's full attention.

"I can't believe no one's explained this to you." He ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "Where to start… okay, programming a computer is basically telling it what to do, like writing an instruction manual." Steve nodded.

"All right, but why do you need a special language for that? Jarvis is a computer, and he speaks English." Tony sighed.

"First off, Jarvis is an artificial intelligence. That's different from a regular computer. Even so, he still has code."

"Code?" Tony let out a pained groan and shook his head despairingly.

"Code is like the… the… you know what, I'm fresh out of metaphors. I cannot simplify this any further." Tony returned his attention to his tablet. "Ask someone else. I'm done."

"Why d'you want to know, Cap?" Natasha emerged from the kitchen with a mug of coffee in one hand and a packet of sugar in the other. As Steve watched, she ripped the paper between her teeth and upended the pouch over her cup. He shrugged.

"Just curious. Mike from my history class was talking about it a while ago."

"Ah." She padded into the living area, and Steve blinked in surprise. Up close, her hair bore the signs of hurried brushing, and there were red marks along the side of her neck and across her collarbone, visible behind the strap of her tank top. She caught him looking at her and gave him a cool once-over herself.

"Clint just got back from D.C.," she said, as if that explained everything.

Now that Steve thought about it, it did.

"Hey, Nat! Just the person I want to see!" Tony's enthusiasm carried a clear warning to anyone in the room. Steve began mentally preparing excuses.

Clearly, Natasha felt the same way.

"What do you need, Stark?" she asked warily.

"Explain computers to the Capsicle!"

"No." Her refusal caught Tony off guard, but he quickly recovered, putting on his best kicked-puppy expression.

"Please? Pretty please?"

"Despite rumors to the contrary, I am not a masochist. I'm sorry, but Steve's hopeless." She shot him an apologetic glance, but Steve just shrugged. He was used to this kind of situation, and the computer stuff didn't seem all that interesting to him anyway.

"Anyone up for some food?" he asked. "I was going to make something before I go to art class this evening, so any preferences?"

"Can you make some more of that chicken pasta?" requested Natasha. "It was really good last time, but we didn't exactly get to finish that meal." Steve grinned.

"Sure thing. Let's try to keep the killer robots to a minimum this time around, though." An electronic beep sounded from the other room, and Tony groaned.

"Fury just texted me," he reported. "Apparently some nut's attacking an office building." He paused, peering at his cellphone screen. "Something about… witches? Burning witches? He wants us at SHIELD headquarters, suited up, in five minutes."

"You just had to jinx it!" Natasha was already heading full speed for her room, from where she would emerge with more than a dozen knives hidden beneath a sleek bodysuit which looked too tight to conceal so much as a sewing needle. Steve hurried towards the stairs – with his serum-enhanced speed, he could make better time than the elevator when he wanted to.

* * *

The Avengers barreled out of a quinjet ten minutes later into the street in front of the blocky building. According to SHIELD's intelligence, a neo-pagan group had its headquarters in the building, and some ultra-conservative religion nut had decided to obliterate it. That wasn't Christianity as Steve knew it, and he took a second to mourn before getting to work. There was no time to lose.

The building also housed a daycare.

* * *

"_Get the hell out of there, Steve! It's coming down!"_ Clint's voice buzzed in his earpiece as Steve sprinted for the exit.

"On my way." They had everyone out. They had everybody out and he only had to make it to the doors and he was almost – wait. Something was moving.

A child. A little girl was walking across the dusty floor of the wide atrium. Steve cursed under his breath and ran toward her as fast as he could.

"_What the fuck are you doing? Steve!"_ The wall was coming down. He pulled the girl into his arms and hit the floor, positioning his shield to cover her, curled into a ball beside his chest.

The groan of stressed support beams sounded overhead, followed by the gentle _plink_ of bits of drywall against vibranium.

Distantly, he heard a wet _crunch_ as his world disappeared behind a scintillating wall of white. A roaring filled his ears and he felt as though someone had lit a bonfire in his back.

Gradually, the pain receded to a manageable level, and he did a quick check of his body. Head, fine. Arms, fine. Chest, fine. Legs – damn. He had no idea. He couldn't feel them.

This wasn't good.

He opened his eyes to total darkness and the sound of someone breathing.

"I'm scared." It was a child's voice, and Steve remembered the girl. He'd pulled her under his shield, hadn't he?

"Are you hurt?" It was difficult to focus enough to form words, but once he started he was surprised by how much it distracted him from the pain.

"No, b-but it's dark… I'm scared." The girl's words were punctuated by soft sniffles, and Steve reached out his hand in an attempt to comfort her.

His fingertips brushed the corner formed between the edge of his shield and the wall. He pushed at it experimentally. It didn't move. That was good – it meant the weight of the building above them wouldn't crush them before they could be rescued.

It was quiet. It was dark and quiet and the only thing he could hear was his own breathing, fast and harsh against the muffling tons of debris. Steve shivered. He was cold. That wasn't a good thing. Dimly, his mind ran up tallies of possibilities and probabilities.

Most likely, he was losing blood from one – probably both – of his legs. He was momentarily grateful that he couldn't feel them.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" Steve's hand finally found her shoulder. The warmth gave him comfort. This isn't the ice, he told himself. No matter what it feels like, this isn't the _Valkyrie_ and they're going to find you and you're going to be fine. The girl choked back a sob.

"Savannah."

"That's a pretty name." Savannah hiccupped quietly.

"Thanks. Who're you?"

"I'm Steve." He shifted, bringing his other hand up to tap at his earpiece. A hiss escaped his clenched teeth as even that small movement brought new pain flaring in his spine.

"Are you hurt, Mister Steve?"

"Yes," he admitted. "It's not too bad," he added hastily, not wanting to worry her. He adjusted the earpiece, but it still picked up nothing but static. The rubble above them was too thick for the signal to get through.

The shivering returned unbidden. He was trapped and they weren't going to find them in time and oh God he couldn't do this again, couldn't stand losing everyone again – the Avengers and Pepper and Mike from history and Tanya Garcia who sat next to him in art class and Mr. Callaghan who taught biology and a whole world he was just getting to know again and –

"Mister Steve?"

"Yes?"

"Could you… could you please tell me a story, Mister Steve? Mommy always tells a story when I'm scared."

"What sort of stories do you like?"

"I like princess stories. An' my favorite one is Ariel, 'cause she's a mermaid an' a princess, too." Steve considered this revelation for a long moment. He really had no idea who Ariel was, and decided against trying to guess an appropriate story.

"I don't know much about Princess Ariel," he began, "but I do know the story of Princess Savannah." Savannah squealed excitedly at the sound of her name, and Steve couldn't help but smile. "She lived in a wonderful castle with her mother, Queen, um…"

"Taylor," supplied Savannah helpfully. "Taylor Moore."

"Yes. Queen Taylor. But one day, Savannah went out to play with her friends – she had a great many friends, you see – when a dragon came to, um, her friends' castle."

"Did it breathe fire?" Savannah sounded more excited than terrified, which was definitely a plus.

Steve was shivering again. That was bad. He ignored it and focused on the story.

"Yes, it did. The dragon breathed on the walls of the castle until it all started to fall down. Princess Savannah's friends ran out of the castle, but before the princess could leave a wall fell on top of her. She was stuck under all the stone, with only a strange knight for company."

"Was she scared, Mister Steve?"

"Yes, she was. But she knew she had to be brave, and wait for the other knights to rescue her."

"Did they?"

"Of course they did. Princesses always have adventures, and sometimes the adventures are very scary. But they are always rescued."

"What about the knight? Did they rescue the knight?"

"Yes, they did. But before then the princess and the knight spent a long time together, in the dark. And the knight told the princess a story, and in return she told him one, on and on until the other knights could dig deep enough through the castle walls to let them out." He paused, pulling together shreds of composure to keep his voice from shaking because _damn_ did he _hurt_. "Why don't you tell me about Princess Ariel now, and I'll tell you more about Princess Savannah later?"

"Okay. So once upon a time there was a mermaid, an' she had really pretty red hair an' her name was Ariel. An' her daddy was named Triton an' he was the king of all the mermaids. Ariel had loads of friends in the ocean, but she wanted to go an' marry a prince named Eric, only he was a person an' he lived on land. So she went to talk to this evil witch, only Ariel didn't know she was evil, an'…"

"…Princess Savannah loved horses. She loved to go riding in the park with her mother, Queen Taylor, and all her friends. One day they stopped to have a picnic by the river, and her mother was standing by the bank when her crown fell in and began to float away. 'Oh no,' said the queen, 'whatever shall I do?' But Princess Savannah jumped into the river, princess dress and all, and swam with strong strokes out to where it was…"

"…so all of the plants grew up around the castle, an' for a hundred years no one could get in. But then a prince came to the castle, an' he cut through the thorn-bushes with his sword till he got to the princess. He kissed her right on the lips…"

"…and all of the people in the kingdom began to cheer for Princess Savannah, because… because she was so brave…"

"Are you all right, Mister Steve?"

"Yes, but I think… I think you'd better tell a story now. And Savannah?"

"Yes, Mister Steve?"

"Don't let me fall asleep, all right?"

"Okay. So there was this princess, an' her name was Jasmine. An' she had a big tiger, an' she lived in a palace, an' a lot of princes wanted to marry her, but she didn't like them. Only there was this boy called Aladdin who had a magic lamp…"

"Mister Steve?"

"Mm?"

"How long d'you think it'll be before they find us?"

"I don't know."

"Okay. So there was this bad man, an' he was named Jafar, I think, or something like that. An' he wanted to kill the king, only he wasn't called a king, he was called a Sultan, I think. So he took his parrot…"

All at once, light began to shine from the cracks between the rocks. Steve blinked up at it sleepily.

"Did they find us, Mister Steve?"

"Yeah, Savannah. They… they did. We're safe." He felt lightheaded, as though the world was spinning in great lazy loops around him.

"Steve!" Thor's shout was accompanied by a blaze of sunshine as his shield was tugged away. "You're alive!"

"Get… her. Get her first." The imposing thunder god obeyed him, reaching down to cradle Savannah with a gentleness surprising in one of his stature.

"Will Mister Steve be okay?"

"Fine. M'fine, really." He waved his hand limply as Thor carried her away, his colossal form replaced by what looked to be a small army of paramedics led by… was that Phil Coulson?


End file.
